


Houses

by genderwitch



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Game Spoilers, M/M, Mentions of Death, Minor Angst, i'm just having feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:34:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27643529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genderwitch/pseuds/genderwitch
Summary: It started with a house.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Charles Smith
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38





	Houses

**Author's Note:**

> just a small drabble about how Charles changes Arthur's perception of what home is. really short, part of a series, will update tags and summary as i add on. comments are appreciated!! gimme your angst

It started with a house.

Before Charles, houses meant  _ obligation  _ to Arthur. Arthur would talk about owning a small ranch house with Mary one day, doing his best to mask the weariness in his voice for her sake. Always for her sake. The idea of settling down in the future wasn’t the taxing aspect of the pipedream. No, it was the thought of change. Of abandoning who he was, who he’d grown to be, to better suit someone else’s needs. He had an obligation to her.

Before Charles, houses meant  _ devastation.  _ Houses meant walking through the worn threshold to find some man with a lust for small change had taken from him what Arthur himself had taken from countless other men. It meant the warring feelings of mourning, and some sort of sick relief, as he discovered his son’s body. Houses meant not being able to stay and bury his twisted charade of a family for fear of the law or a passerby recognizing him. It meant taking the long route back to where his true family was temporarily hiding out. Stumbling off of his horse, chastising himself for allowing himself to sink into the delusion that he deserved a partner and child. Slinking to Hosea and Dutch’s tent, not saying a word but allowing his mentors to see the stricken look on his face, allowing a knowing glance and a rare embrace to comfort him.

But with Charles. Oh, with Charles. Domesticity didn’t send a shock of nausea through Arthur anymore. Thresholds signalled new beginnings, not soured ends. Quiet fireplaces weren’t just to chase the frost out of his bones, they were for comfortable warmth shared with someone he trusts. Someone he loves. 

When he still saw ghosts of bloodstains on the wood floor, Charles would lay out a tanned pelt. Decorate the spaces in Arthur’s heart that used to be frigid and abandoned. Remind him that a house can be a  **home** . And that homes didn’t have to be a hollow facade for the sake of someone else. That they are something shared and cherished. 

With Charles, Arthur didn’t need a threshold, or a floor, or a hearth to feel at home. Arthur’s home was in the shared company of the man he loved.


End file.
